He keeps his belongings in perfect little piles Defines his existence with monetary files And curses missing buttons, the smallest little stain And won't ally with sickness or feel the saddest pain He's invested, with retirement in sight With dreams of owning boat and ship that only sails at night Shuffles through his day-to-day in perfect monotone Blissfully unaware of a life he's never known Until, he sees her He cries, "Oh I am, undone" He finally found something new under the sun He awakens in the morning now, forty years are gone Breathing in her absence in the bed he sleeps alone And sets out two coffee cups with pomp and circumstance He ritually still observes her absentminded dance(?) He lifts his glass to her picture hanging on the wall Swears he still hears her voice coming down the hall He walks in the garden, pretends to love his day He picks a flower for her and continues on his way Until, he sees her He cries, "Oh I am, undone" She was the only thing new under the sun She was the only thing new under the sun